After the time it takes to finish a meal, Han Li’s figure appeared atop a modest hill.
Gazing into the distance at the faintly visible massive city gates and the bustling crowd of carriages and pedestrians before them, his expression darkened like still water.
“Forget it. Since we know this demon is truly in Great Jin, it’s an unexpected gain. You’ll always have a chance to reclaim your flying swords, but now isn’t the best time. Your cultivation hasn’t fully recovered, and the Three Flames Fan hasn’t been refined yet. Even if this demon suffered severe injuries earlier, given its tyrannical demonic techniques of devouring souls and pills, it’s likely mostly recovered by now. Facing it now, your odds of victory aren’t high,” the Great Divination Sage calmly transmitted via divine sense.
“You’re right, Senior. Even if I caught up now, my chances of reclaiming them would be slim at best. This ancient demon is simply too formidable. Earlier, I was eager to retrieve the swords so I could deploy the Great Geng Sword Formation. It seems I’ll have to wait until your puppets and that fan are refined before confronting it again. However, this demon seems preoccupied with urgent matters, fleeing so swiftly that it hasn’t even noticed our presence. Yet, it clearly hasn’t subdued or discarded the two Emerald Swarm Swords. With their core material being ten-thousand-year golden lightning, mixed with Refined Crystal and Geng Steel, these swords are no ordinary treasures. Moreover, destroying them would require exhausting demonic flames over time—something this demon would never bother with,” Han Li sneered.
“That’s true. But then again, if you devoted centuries refining these dozens of swords with your Spirit Infant flames and then formed them into a sword array, their power might rival even spiritual treasures,” the Great Divination Sage sighed, sounding somewhat wistful. Even at the peak of his glory, he had never dared dream of refining a life-bound treasure with such rare materials.
“Perhaps. But I can’t afford to spend most of my lifespan refining artifacts,” Han Li replied with a bitter chuckle.
“Haha, you’re far more prudent than I ever was. Had I been half as cautious, I’d have reached the Deity Transformation stage long ago. This demon appearing in Jinjing now likely means it’ll attend the auction. Han boy, you’d best stay alert—don’t let it recognize you.”
“Thank you for your concern, Senior. I’ll be careful. I originally planned to use General Zhunan’s connections to learn more about the auction, but it seems I’ll have to gather information myself. If I recall correctly, there’s a restaurant in Jinjing owned by the Feng family. I’ll start there to avoid drawing attention at an inn.” Muttering to himself, Han Li adjusted his robes and strode down the hill toward the distant city gates.
Though mortals and low-level cultivators boasted of Jinjing’s grandeur, calling it unparalleled, Han Li found it inferior to Star City in the Chaotic Star Seas—the largest city he had ever seen.
Yet Jinjing had its own uniqueness. Beyond its outermost wall, six additional towering walls were erected at intervals of one li, each rising five to six zhang higher than the last. The final stone wall stood over forty zhang tall—a remarkable feat of mortal engineering.
The city was divided into thirteen districts, with the northern imperial city spanning dozens of li. The streets and buildings were densely packed, and it took Han Li half a day just to traverse two districts from the gate.
Unaccustomed to such slow travel, he frowned inwardly.
Now, standing before a two-story restaurant, Han Li calmly clasped his hands behind his back and entered.
The establishment was busy, most seats occupied. After a quick glance, Han Li headed straight for the counter, where a gaunt middle-aged man—likely the manager—stood.
Without a word, Han Li subtly blocked others’ view with a flick of his sleeve, silently placing a jade pendant on the counter. Its surface bore the characters “Guan Ning Feng.”
The manager’s expression shifted slightly. After scrutinizing Han Li and the pendant, he pocketed it and whispered, “Follow me.”
Leading Han Li through a side door into a secluded room, the manager bowed and returned the pendant. “Young Master Feng, this humble servant Feng Quan pays his respects.” Clearly, he mistook Han Li for the deceased Feng Yue.
“Find me a secluded residence—not in the restaurant, preferably isolated. Only you should know of my presence here,” Han Li ordered coldly.
“Understood. I’ll arrange it within half a day,” Feng Quan replied promptly, exuding competence.
“Good. Be quick,” Han Li nodded, satisfied.
After Feng Quan left, Han Li sat and meditated.
Some time later, footsteps approached. Feng Quan returned, beaming. “Young Master, the residence is ready. The owner, an old acquaintance, relocated years ago. I’ve prepared it for immediate use.”
“Well done. Lead the way,” Han Li praised.
Exiting through the back, they found a weathered carriage with a hunched old driver.
“You’ve thought ahead. But I said no one else should know of me. Who is this?” Han Li eyed the elderly man suspiciously.
“Reporting to Young Master, Old Wu is deaf and mute. The residence is distant, hence the carriage,” Feng Quan explained.
Han Li frowned but boarded.
The carriage wound through streets before stopping at a lone, desolate courtyard.
As Feng Quan stepped forward to open the gate, Han Li’s voice cut in coldly: “Planning to flee into the formation and have your three accomplices ambush me?”
Feng Quan paled, lunging for the gate—but a red streak pierced his skull, reducing him to ashes.
The old driver bellowed, “Now!”
A green flying dagger shot toward Han Li, while yellow mist erupted from the courtyard, followed by a black trident and two fiery halberds.
Han Li smirked. With a flick of his sleeve, azure light swallowed the dagger. His other hand summoned a spectral claw, seizing the weapons mid-air.
Shouts of alarm came from the mist. The old driver, paling, produced a blood-red talisman. Spitting blood onto it, he vanished in a crimson cloud—only for Han Li to intercept him effortlessly.
The cultivators in the mist scattered in panic, fleeing in all directions.
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